Winter

“Hope is a gift. You can't choose to have it. To believe and yet to have no hope is to thirst beside a fountain.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees

“Memory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall On Your Knees

“She's no lady. Her songs are all unbelievably unhappy or lewd. It's called Blues. She sings about sore feet, sexual relations, baked goods, killing your lover, being broke, men called Daddy, women who dress like men, working, praying for rain. Jail and trains. Whiskey and morphine. She tells stories between verses and everyone in the place shouts out how true it all is.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees

“Everything in New York is a photograph. All the things that are supposed to be dirty or rough or unrefined are the most beautiful things. Garbage cans at the ends of alleyways look like they've been up all night talking with each other. Doorways with peeling paint look like the wise lines around an old feller's eyes. I stop and stare but can't stay because men always think I'm selling something. Or worse, giving something away. I wish I could be invisible. Or at least I wish I didn't look like someone they want to look at. They stop being part of the picture, they get up from their chess game and come out of the frame at me, blocking my view.”
― Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees